Night is falling,

tumbling down like a tired kitten

fond of games, worn out.

The queer quiet doves coo,

and quick-winged bats flutter

awake, and drop from the tree-boles.

It is time for songbirds to sleep.

-

Light glimmers on fading leaves.

I abandon my sandals

to melt into the quivering grass

and I lift my eyes to

the waiting stars. They are slow

to appear tonight.

-

Moonlight makes a path

for me to follow.

I trace it to

a bed of fresh-fallen

leaves.

-

Maybe I will rest

here, just for a little while.

-

Down the halls of sleep comes

Night walking, lifting a hand in welcome. Her

face is very white, and there is a drop

of red on her lips.